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::INSIGHT::

What we see, we have already "read" as our visual cortex filters our perceptions down through the doors of our experiences. What we read is immediately transposed perceptually to some kind of image that is compatible with our imagination. Here you will find much to read, and lots to see.

--Aww, we’re just looking for strays & trouble--makers. I was told that you were out here somewhere, so it’s a piece of luck finding you like this. I think you & I have some things to discuss, Johnny.

4(three-shot) angle on Buck: Anyone want some coffee; tastes like sawdust, but it’s hot.--tossing the inquiry like a
rock.

5(medium close-up) Bronson turned in the saddle, his dark eyes narrowing: So, you would be the mysterious buffalo hunter who has stirred up so much shit for me in town?

6(sound cue) slide guitar riff.

7(cut to overhead crane shot) the five riders facing the two men.

8(sound cue) Guitar strumming & snare drum baps.

9(two-shot) angle over Bronson’s shoulder, Buck smirking

--Yeah, that would probably be me

10(medium close-up) Bronson, tight-lipped, nodding his head:--OK, well I’m Cash Bronson, and one of these days we need to palaver over your mistaken notion that you actually can rebuild this ramshackle ranch of yours.

11(close-up) Buck, tight-jawed: Sure, why not? I’d be pleased to jaw a bit with the one-eyed jack in these parts.

13(hold the shot) angle over Thor’s shoulder, Bronson, his tone approaching a growl--Just sit on that itch, boy; then
returning his gaze to the two men afoot in front of him--My brother makes a valid point though. It is possible that this is not a friendly visit.

14(medium close-up) the Eagle: Would you call it an unfriendly one? as he rolled his throwing knife in his big
hands, an old Colt prominent on his hip.

15(sound cue) Indian seed rattle & branch flute trills.

16(two-shot) angle over Johnny’s shoulder, Bronson:

--It could be--it could be; kind of depends on you fellows.

17(cut to close-up) Buck: Is that a fact, how so?

18(two-shot) angle on Bronson--I don’t know where to

begin with you, big man--so let’s talk to Johnny first.

19(medium close-up) the Eagle: So, let’s get to it.

20(three shot) angle on Bronson: Come to find out

you had a big misunderstanding recently with my

auction manager over some wages?

21(close-up) Johnny: You know that pinche gordo had

it coming--that baboso doesn’t bring you any honor.

22(sound cue) saxophone & guitar.

23(medium close up) Bronson: So you gave it to him?

24(close-up) Johnny: Hell, no--Sheriff Hop showed up

& stopped the dance.

25(two-shot) angle on Bronson: You know, that’s not

the way I heard it.

26(medium close-up) cut to Buck: That’s the way it was.

27(cut to medium wide shot) over the stiff backs of the five riders, with Buck & Johnny facing them.

28(series of jump-cut close-ups) Bronson, the Eagle, Thor, Buck, & the three cowhands.

31(medium wide shot) Buck casually bent down, keeping Thor in his periphery, then lifted up the
blackened pan out of the low orange flames, & sat it
on a flat rock.

32(reverse the shot) Buck & Johnny with backs to the camera; --Bronson: Sorry about your vittles--straightening
up in the saddle, & folding his arms. Truth be told, Graff is a minor problem, & I choose to let you slide--because when it comes to horse busting, I like your style; but get this clear, if you want wages from me, You will have to find a way to get along with Graff.

33(sound cue) guitar strumming.

34(two-shot) angle on Johnny, his features stoic, not respon-ding.--Bronson: That brings us to a more serious problem--that we need to deal with today; right now.

35( medium close-up) Buck: And what might that be?

--Bronson: I think that you boys need to know that you’re on my land.

36(sound cue) castanets & coronet.

Glenn Buttkus

OK, buckaroos, this is the last of the Review; from here on the episodes

will be new. Thanks to all the patient readers who trudged through all

I am the north wall of the exalted Pythian Temple, crumbling bravely on Broadway in the theater district in
Tacoma. I face a parking lot, where once a department store
stood shoulder to shoulder with me. My aching bricks are
festooned with fading overlapping ads for cigars, jewelry, a
painless dentist, Turkish cigarettes, & the New York &
Washington Outfitting Co, where “a dollar a week will dress you”,
sad smile, or at least it would in 1924.

The Temple used to house over a hundred members, rich

businessmen (all fat white cats--no Jews or ethnic minor-ities), the Donalds of their day, rivaling the Masons &
Kiwanis. There are less than twenty members at present, old
men in moldy double-breasted suits, huddled in dark corners
smoking pungent cigars--while hybrid & electric cars
back into me, smashing my ankles, graffiti swaths cover a
section of me by the alley, drunks urinate on me after dark,
& most folks just pass by hurriedly without greeting or
acknowledging me. Such is the plight of most century old
walls.

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